3. Grady
Grady
Chapter 3
With Birdie on my arm, I tried to remember the last time I’d been this undone by a woman. Practically blushing like a schoolboy. Humbly taking orders without protest.
If Avery could see me now, she’d never let me live it down.
Twenty years ago, when I met Diana, it was an entirely different story. I was young, hot-headed, and cocky, cutting my teeth on building my ranch. She liked the romantic ideal of falling in love with a cowboy more than she liked the reality of early mornings, long hours dedicated to hard labor, and the smell of cattle that permeated everything.
Our attraction to each other had burned too fast, fizzling out within a year or two. I would always hold a special place in my life for Diana as the mother of my child, but with the wisdom of age came the realization that we never truly loved each other. If I hadn’t been driven by raging hormones in my early twenties, I might have recognized sooner that Diana didn’t actually like me. She liked the fantasy version of me instead, glamorized by Hollywood westerns.
This attraction to Birdie felt…different. Softer, genuine. Naturally falling into place like puzzle pieces.
On the other hand, I’d rushed into things too quickly with my ex-wife. I had no desire to make the same mistake again with another woman.
As I showed Birdie around, her sweet honeysuckle perfume invaded my lungs on every breath. No matter how hard I tried to focus on anything else, my awareness kept zeroing in on the feather-light touch of her hand resting on my forearm.
Despite my non-existent love life for the past twenty years, I wasn’t blind. Birdie was a beautiful woman, with pale blonde hair swept up in a loose bun. Her green plaid skirt hugged her curvy hips with perfect snugness that drove me to distraction. And her soft, ample cleavage brushed against my arm as we walked side by side.
Birdie was the perfect storm to awaken feelings in me that I fully believed had died a long time ago. Ever since the divorce, I went to great lengths to ensure that I didn’t cross paths with women who might express interest in me. And yet, here was Birdie, not-so-subtly feeling up my arm, teaching me how to entertain the company of a lady, and batting those blue eyes at me.
She had her iPad out now, showing me pictures of flowers and arrangements, gesturing with sweeping movements as she indicated where she’d like things to go. It gave me a chance to watch her, cheeks flushed from the cool air, animated with her creative vision and eager to see it come to life.
“Everything about High Plains is big and bold, magnificent,” she said. “We should use flowers to match that statement. Sunflowers would be wonderful—tall, towering. We could sprinkle in some snapdragons for a pop of color. Oh, and evergreen foliage, too, for earthy texture. What do you think?”
I shrugged. I really had no opinion, but Birdie seemed excited for it.
“That sounds fine,” I said.
She shot me a withering look of impatience.
“A little more input than that would be appreciated.”
“Like I said before, I trust your expertise. I know cattle, not flowers.”
Birdie didn’t press and snapped her iPad cover closed. We’d stopped at the fence that bordered the southern pasture, leading into a crop of trees, and eventually the rocky terrain of the lower mountain range. She turned around, leaning back against the fence to face me.
“It’s a gorgeous place you have here, Mr. McCall. You must be very proud of it.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say that,” I replied.
She cocked her head.
“Why?”
I propped my forearms on the fence, watching the grass ripple in a faint breeze.
“I thought you’d tell me that a proper gentleman shouldn’t exhibit pride.”
“You have every right to be proud of something you built,” Birdie countered.
That’s your problem, Grady, Diana told me as she signed the divorce papers. You always loved the land more than you ever loved me. There isn’t enough room in your heart for both of us.
I closed my eyes against the memory. Deep down, I knew she was right. That’s why dating after our separation had felt so…pointless. If I ever remarried—as impossible as that sounded—I needed a woman who loved this land as much as I did.
My gaze slid toward Birdie again, studying her. Whether I felt attracted to her or not, my judgment about women had led me astray once before. Diana didn’t like the ranch life, and I couldn’t imagine Birdie would either in that snug plaid skirt. She was a florist, for God’s sake. Not a rancher.
The thunder of hooves echoed in the distance. I lifted my gaze and turned north toward the sound until I spotted Avery on horseback, racing across the field with a whoop of laughter. My foreman, Bowen, was close on her heels. He could have easily overtaken her if he let his horse have its head, but he kept a tight rein and held back, letting Avery outpace him.
They skidded to a stop by the barn in a cloud of dust. Avery circled her horse around Bowen, savoring her victory. He simply watched her with a small smile playing on his lips, one hand resting on the pommel of his saddle.
Raising my daughter around a bunch of rowdy cowboys hadn’t been easy. I watched them like a hawk, making it clear in no uncertain terms that if they laid a finger on Avery, they were dead meat.
I was never concerned about Bowen though. He was the most trustworthy man I’d ever met, loyal to a fault. Shadowing my daughter around the ranch for years to keep her out of trouble.
I let out a piercing whistle to get Avery’s attention. Her head snapped up. I waved her over. She said something to Bowen and he nodded. After she dismounted from her horse, she passed the reins to him.
Avery wiped her hands on her jeans and jogged over.
“You must be Avery,” Birdie said, extending her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Birdie.”
“Hey, glad to see you made it all the way out here. And my father hasn’t scared you off yet.”
“Oh, he certainly tried to get rid of me, but I wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily.”
“Stop talking about me while I’m standing right here,” I interjected.
“Poor Dad. We haven’t forgotten about you, I promise.”
Avery grinned and wrapped her arms around my middle. I sighed, knowing damn well that she purposefully put me in this position, thanks to that note on the kitchen table.
Gone for a ride with Bowen. Be back around noon.
That gave her plenty of time to dodge the appointment with the florist, leaving it entirely on my shoulders. Not that I minded meeting with Birdie. That wasn’t the point. I cast a stern look in Avery’s direction, as if to say, you and I are going to have a serious talk after this.
She didn’t even bat an eye.
“So, did you get the flowers sorted out?”
With no help from you, I thought, but I bit my tongue and held it back. For now. She’d hear about it later.
“We did,” Birdie said. “Sunflowers, snapdragons, and evergreens. It’s going to be stunning. I’ll send you a cost estimate later today.”
“I can’t wait to see them.” Without missing a beat, Avery added, “Why don’t you stick around for lunch? We’d love to have you.”
I bit back a growl, knowing damn well what Avery was up to. She was putting me in an impossible situation. Again. If I didn’t support her invitation, I would appear cold and rude, when Birdie had been nothing but warm and welcoming.
To my relief—and a small prickle of disappointment—Birdie waved her off.
“That’s such a kind offer, but I really have to get back to the shop. I’ve stayed away too long already. But if either of you have any questions or concerns about the flowers, just give me a call and I’ll be happy to help.”
“We’re really looking forward to seeing those arrangements, and thank you for coming all the way out here.” Avery jabbed her elbow into my ribs. “Dad will walk you to your car.”
I scowled at Avery. I was supposed to be the one giving the orders around here. But I fell into step beside Birdie anyway without protest.
As soon as we were out of Avery’s hearing range, Birdie spoke with a note of amusement in her voice.
“Does your daughter usually try to marry you off to any woman that crosses your path?”
I grunted as my neck prickled with embarrassment. It was bad enough for Avery to put me on the spot like that, but the fact that Birdie noticed made the whole ordeal worse.
“No, not really. This is…new.”
Birdie laughed softly and bumped her shoulder against mine. I caught a deep breath of her honeysuckle scent and my heart thundered against my ribs.
“Relax. I don’t expect you to propose any time soon, if that makes you feel any better.”
As if this nonsense wasn’t awkward enough.
“Please don’t pay my daughter any attention. I’ll have a talk with her.”
We’d reached Birdie’s truck by now. She deposited her iPad on the front seat. What little remained of our coffee and the bag of pastries had been left in the kitchen after a tour of the house.
“I don’t get embarrassed that easily, Mr. McCall,” Birdie replied. “Don’t worry about it. I like Avery. And she obviously cares about you very much if she wants to see you happy.”
Retrieving a business card and a pen from the pocket of her skirt, she scribbled something down quickly. Then she stepped closer until only a few inches separated us. The shadow of my hat brim fell across her face, shielding her eyes as she gazed up at me.
Birdie pressed her lips to the card until a blush-pink lipstick stain remained. My throat worked as I watched her open my coat and slide the card into the breast pocket of my shirt.
“That’s my personal number.” She patted my chest, resting her palm there for a moment or two longer than necessary. Gentle and faintly warm. “You would never call about flowers, I know that. But you’re welcome to call me about…other things. If you want to.”
Before I could think of something to say, she turned back to her truck and climbed in. With a wave, she headed down my driveway. Long after she was gone, I stood there, rooted to the spot and rubbing my chest where the phantom heat of her touch still burned.
The crunch of footsteps on gravel signaled Avery’s approach. I hastily stopped rubbing my chest in case she noticed that too and used it against me.
“So,” she said, slotting her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “What did you think of the florist?”
“Busy. Like a bee.”
And cute.
I kept that part to myself.
A grin spread across Avery’s face.
“You like her.”
“What did I tell you about meddling?”
She shrugged. “If I don’t give you a friendly nudge now and then, you won’t do a damn thing about fixing your dating situation. Or lack of it.”
“I don’t need your nudges.”
“You should ask her out,” Avery replied, relentless as ever.
I didn’t mention Birdie’s business card resting safely in my pocket. I could have sworn her faint perfume still clung to my clothes where she’d touched me.
“Don’t you have homework to do?”
“That can wait,” Avery said. “Besides, we need to get catering squared away for the festival. I was thinking we could talk about it over lunch.”
“As long as you don’t try to set me up with anyone else,” I said sternly.
Avery hummed, looking smug as she trotted past me toward the house.
“Why would I do that? You’re going to ask Birdie out, remember?”
“I never said—”
I broke off when she turned away, laughing. My protest fell on deaf ears. As Avery disappeared inside, I lagged behind. When I was finally alone, I retrieved Birdie’s card from my pocket and studied the looping numbers in dark ink. I traced my thumb over the lipstick kiss—a breezy, delicate shade of pink.
Twenty years was a long time to be without the companionship of a woman. I thought I didn’t need it. I thought it wasn’t possible to have a goddamn crush at my age.
But I couldn’t deny how good it felt to have Birdie on my arm.